


odds & ends

by loveleee



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Gen, Secretly a Virgin, Tropes, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 13:19:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1306276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveleee/pseuds/loveleee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a place to collect the drabbles I've written. Lots of Everlark, some other characters & pairings too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. rehearsal (katniss/peeta, catching fire)

**(rehearsal. katniss/peeta, catching fire au)**

It’s only a rehearsal. But when the doors open and he sees her in the white dress, his heart leaps into his throat anyway.

Two Avox follow Katniss down the aisle, waves of feathers and fabric held aloft in their pale hands. She’s slow, careful; he can only imagine what ridiculous shoes Effie has strapped her into, even though they’ll be hidden beneath her flowing skirt during the ceremony.

She joins him on the stage, and though her smile is tired and forced, she squeezes back tightly when he takes her hand in his.

Caesar Flickerman will be the officiant, but he doesn’t need to practice -  _Caesar’s a pro_ , Effie had assured them - so instead they’re joined by a producer, an exhausted woman with blood red hair teased up into spikes and a black vine tattoo creeping down her temple to the curve of her jaw. The woman runs through the ceremony in a rapid monotone, pausing only for the lovers’ vows. They keep it simple and quick. They’ve got to sound genuine tomorrow night, not as if they’ve been rehearsed, over and over in a spotlight in an empty room.

When it’s time to kiss the bride, Peeta hesitates. 

Once - just  _once_ \- he wants to do this for real. No cameras. No audience. Just Peeta and his girl, who maybe doesn’t love him, but maybe could. Someday.

"I think I might poke my eye out on your dress," he jokes. The bright lights from above glint sharp off of the metal accessory, making her almost painful to look at. It twists around her torso like like silver capillaries tapering off into wings. Like a cage.  _Mockingjay_ , he’d thought the second he saw it.  _But…they wouldn’t._

Katniss laughs, a real laugh, and she’s so tense he thinks the sudden shake of her shoulders might crack her to pieces. But she edges closer, loosens her grip on his hand. “Just be careful,” she tells him, and she means so much more than just the dress. 

 _I will_ , he whispers with his kiss.


	2. nocturne (katniss/peeta, catching fire)

**(nocturne. katniss/peeta, catching fire, prompt: silence)**

He doesn’t realize how much he’ll miss her noises until she’s gone.

Her body shifting on the mattress; fingers scratching at skin in her sleep; the soft smack of her lips. Peeta thought they slept those nights on the train in silence but now he knows it was her sounds, her nocturne, lulling him to sleep.

When he doesn’t hear her screams, his mind makes them up.

Katniss didn’t always scream, not every night. Sometimes she groaned or whimpered or cried. One night he touched his fingertips to her cheek and they came away wet, but she never woke, just shivered within the tense circle of his arms (they could never be enough.)

But when he’s alone at night, tucked against one side of the bed so his feet never touch the cold, untouched sheets where she used to sleep, he’ll hear them. The ghosts trying to claw their way from her throat. The mutts gnashing, tearing, pulling her down from within. And he’ll come to, panicked, frozen, with nothing and no one there for him to touch and hold and cling to.

He sleeps with his windows open but he never hears a sound from the house down the way.


	3. liar (katniss/peeta, post-mj)

**(liar. katniss/peeta, post-mockingjay au, prompt: secretly a virgin)**

Katniss arches her back off the bed, whimpering as Peeta drags his tongue over the slick heat between her legs. She whines in protest when he lifts his head, but her breath catches in her throat when she sees the way he’s slowly stroking himself, leaning over her, nuzzling at her cheek.

He lowers his hips against hers, and she can feel him pressed  _right there_  against her. A nervous thrill races through her veins. He captures her lips in a kiss, then asks, “You ready?”

She can’t lie to him. Not when he’s naked and panting and  _hers_. Not when they’re finally, finally here. Together.

"I’ve never done this," she blurts out.

Peeta lips fall slack against her collarbone, and he sits back on his heels, still cradled between her knees. She tries to look at anything but his erection, but it’s just  _there_ , so hard that it almost grazes the skin of his stomach. ”Never done what?” he says slowly, like he knows but doesn’t want to believe it.

"Had sex," she says, after a long pause. 

He rubs his forehead with the back of his hand, a tic she’s noticed in the months since he came back to Twelve. He does it when he’s thinking hard. 

"You told me…that you did it with Gale," he finally says. "When we were still in Thirteen. Real or not real?"

"Real," she whispers, her gut twisting unpleasantly. 

She’d been so  _angry_  back then, so stung by Peeta’s suspicion and hate, that the lie had just slipped out of her. 


	4. we all do (katniss/johanna, canon au)

**(we all do. katniss/johanna, canon au, prompt: secretly a virgin)**

Johanna’s skin is tan and smooth, and it tastes like summer when Katniss runs her tongue down her torso, licking a path around her bellybutton and below.

Katniss can feel the older girl’s thighs tense around her when she dips her head between her legs. She likes the taste of Johanna - lighter and sweeter than the women she’s been forced to do this for - and Katniss licks her eagerly, pressing the flat of her tongue against her clit.

She likes Johanna, in general.

Katniss slips a finger inside of her, then two, and finally three, noting the little gasp of agony she earns when she curls them back towards her. She fucks Johanna like that, her fingers inside her and her mouth around her, until Johanna shatters beneath her, her own painted fingernails scrabbling at the bedsheets as she moans.

She doesn’t expect the blood staining her fingers when she pulls them away to wipe off her mouth.

Katniss stares down at her hand in horror, momentarily frozen. “Are you - are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Johanna sits upright beside her, running a hand over her close-cropped hair. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

"But -"

"I said don’t worry about it." Johanna’s eyes are dark, and she breaks her gaze as she slips back into her panties.

"I don’t understand," Katniss says. "I thought…Finnick said you had to do it, too. We all have to."

"We do," Johanna says shortly. Her eyes soften a little when she looks back at Katniss. "I just attract a different kind of customer, Girl on Fire."


	5. baby (katniss/peeta, post-mj)

**(baby. katniss/peeta, post-mockingjay, prompt: accidental baby acquisition)**

There’s a baby in the kitchen.

It wasn’t there before. Sure, she’d been a little sleepy when she left for the woods this morning, even missing a few of the hooks as she laced up her hunting boots. But - she’s almost  _positive_ it wasn’t there this morning.

She would have noticed a  _baby._

"Peeta?" Katniss calls out, trying to suppress the rising alarm in her voice. " _Peeta!_ _”_

There’s a small thud, then the sound of a door closing. “Yeah?” She hears his heavy footsteps on the landing upstairs, drawing closer.

Katniss folds her arms across her chest when he appears at the top of the staircase, frowning as he trots down the steps. “What is this?”

Peeta stands before her and pauses a moment, as if it’s a trick question. She raises an eyebrow. “A baby,” he says finally.

"I see that," Katniss says. "I mean, why is it here? Whose is it?"

“ _She_ is here,” Peeta says, crossing the kitchen to crouch down beside the little bouncy chair, “because I saw Patrick and Fern on the way home from town, and they asked if we’d babysit.”

Patrick and Fern. They were one of the young couples who’d moved back to Twelve, about a year after the end of the war. Katniss didn’t even know they  _had_ a baby.

"Why would they do that?"

Peeta shrugs. “They wanted some alone time.” He smiles at the baby, who’s been gazing at Katniss with an unnerving, unblinking stare since the moment she walked through the door. “Yeah, you keep your mom and dad busy, huh?”

"So we’re watching their kid while they have sex," Katniss grumbles, finally setting her game bag in its usual spot on the counter. "Great."

Peeta just laughs, his attention still focused on the chubby little girl. “We’d do the same thing if we had one,” he says dismissively.

Katniss scoffs. “You couldn’t have a baby in this house,” she says. “We’ve got…knives and dead animals everywhere.”

"We’d make it work." She doesn’t miss the way his voice tenses slightly, or how his lips press together for just a moment before he smiles again at the baby.

They fall into silence, then, Peeta dangling a toy in front of the baby as Katniss skins the rabbit she shot out in the woods. When she’s finished she washes her hands, and comes up behind Peeta so silently he doesn’t know she’s there until she bends down beside him, resting her hand on his thigh. She offers him a timid smile.

"What’s her name?"


	6. games (haymitch, effie, catching fire)

**(games. haymitch, effie, catching fire, prompt: truth or dare)**

The door to the bar car slides open, and Haymitch can practically  _feel_  Effie’s disapproval as it settles over him like a damp wool blanket.

"You should be in bed," she says, in that same scolding chirp she’s been using with him for the past seven years. "We’ve got a big, big day tomorrow."

He rolls his eyes. “So should you.” He takes a sip of his whisky; the ice has melted, and it’s so watered down he can barely taste the sting that he craves. 

“ _I’ve_ been working on our strategy,” Effie says, but her voices catches on the last word and her hand trembles on the handle of the ice box, and now Haymitch is interested.

"Oh? And what might that be?"

She doesn’t answer. He sits forward a little in his chair, watching as she pours herself a cocktail. A greyhound. A little fruity, but not as fruity as he’d expect from a woman whose last name is Trinket.

"To win," she says suddenly, turning towards him, drink in hand. "That’s our strategy."

Haymitch lets his eyes follow her as she crosses the room, lowering herself into the cushioned chair across from him. She’s in flat shoes, not heels.

He remembers how startled he was the first time he saw her wear flat shoes - she was three inches shorter than he’d thought - but they’ve had years on this train together. 

"Truth or dare, Effie."

She takes a long sip of her drink, patting her upper lip with a napkin when she’s done. “What?”

Haymitch sighs. Maybe it’s not a thing in the Capitol. “It’s a game. Truth or dare. Just pick one.”

Effie stares at him impassively. “Fine. Truth.”

"Those kids are gonna die in there."

She cracks, just for a moment - but he sees it. He savors it. The twelve children before these two, they couldn’t put a dent in her.

But somehow, this girl and this boy, these victors: they matter. They’re more than just her meal ticket.

"That’s your idea of a game?" she whispers.

"Better than yours," he says. _  
_

He leaves his glass on the wooden table. He can hear her set it onto a coaster behind him as he leaves; can hear the tremor in her hand, the shift of her feet on the carpet as she slides to the ground.


End file.
